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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177960">the aftermath of dreaming</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/emomi/pseuds/emomi'>emomi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fade Shenanigans, Post-Break Up, nothing happens and nobody learns anything</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:00:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/emomi/pseuds/emomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not the first time she’s found herself in someone else’s dream.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Lavellan/Solas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the aftermath of dreaming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i found this in an old wips folder and decided to tack on an ending in five minutes just for funsies so if it seems rushed... uh yeah</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s not the first time she’s found herself in someone else’s dream.</p>
<p>An unfortunate side-effect of the Anchor, she thinks.</p>
<p>So she is not entirely surprised when she wakes to find herself in a room she has never seen before. It is an ornate place—gilded and magnificent—and entirely the product of someone else’s imagination.</p>
<p>Still, there is something not wholly unfamiliar to this dream. She figures she must know the dreamer then, whoever they are.</p>
<p>All the more reason to leave. It would be inappropriate to stay—a gross breach of privacy—and she knows better than to linger in a person’s mind uninvited.</p>
<p>Fortunately for her, one of the few positive aspects of the Anchor is that it has allowed her to become a particularly adept Fadewalker.</p>
<p>She takes a deep breath, steadies herself, and remembers Solas’s advice on the matter. When exploring the Fade, one must picture their destination clearly, then imagine reaching out to it, as if to grab it. Once you feel you’ve got a firm grasp on your target, it is simply a matter of pulling yourself towards it.</p>
<p>It’s practically second nature to her now.</p>
<p>She thinks of the place she always does when she finds herself in another’s dream: a small glade in the Free Marches, not far from Kirkwall, where she received her vallaslin. She was young then, only a teenager, and had just been announced Clan Lavellan’s new First. She was so proud to have earned the honor so young, and the pain she felt receiving the tattoo was nothing to the joy of her family and her clan.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘They are slave markings, or at least they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.’</em>
</p>
<p>It had been more than a decade since that day but she still remembers the ritual clearly—or at least clear enough to reach for it easily.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Stop. You are perfect exactly as you are.’</em>
</p>
<p>She reaches for the moment slowly, meandering. In the Fade, there is no reason to rush. When she finds it, grabs it, she takes her time to make sure she has properly anchored herself to the memory.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘You have a rare and marvelous spirit, in another world…’</em>
</p>
<p>Her grip loosens—she is thinking of Crestwood, of him. She pulls but goes nowhere. She pulls again but the memory is gone, her outstretched spectral arm snaps violently back into place.</p>
<p>The Anchor flares angrily. The pain is blinding and unceasing—she can do nothing but cry out in anguish. She thinks—when she can think—that she must leave the Fade. Find… someone. She needs to…</p>
<p>“Wake up,” she commands herself through gritted teeth. “<em>Wake up</em>.”</p>
<p>As she drags herself from the Fade, she is vaguely aware of a figure rushing towards her. A spirit, she thinks, or perhaps a demon.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>She is out of her bed the moment she wakes. The Anchor is still crackling furiously in her hand, sending periodic jolts of sharp pain from her palm to her jaw.</p>
<p>She descends the stairs from her room in a rushed haze. She knows instinctively where to go, <em>who</em> to find.</p>
<p>When she throws open the door to the throne room, Solas is already there. She does not have the presence of mind to be angry, or sad, or do anything besides desperately thrust her glowing hand at him and choke out incoherent pleas to <em>just stop the pain</em>.</p>
<p>He holds her hand and guides her gently to her throne, whispering words she cannot hear over the ringing in her ears. His magic feels cool against her skin, and the pain subsides slowly but surely. He is still holding her hand when the glowing finally stops.</p>
<p>“Corypheus,” she gasps. “Does this mean— Is he—”</p>
<p>“I think if he were near he would have already made himself known,” Solas says.</p>
<p>She sighs. “You’re probably right.” They are safe, at least for the time being. “How did you know about the Anchor then?”</p>
<p>“I saw you,” he says. “In the Fade.”</p>
<p>So it was <em>his</em> dream. Of course it was, he was constantly on her mind. When she wasn’t dealing with nobles or planning wars against would-be gods, she was on her own with nothing but fresh heartache to keep her company. She sighs, looks up at her hand.</p>
<p>He is still holding her hand.</p>
<p>For a moment, she almost thinks he’ll say something. Apologize for leaving, say it was all a stupid mistake, tell her that he’s back now, here to stay.</p>
<p>He lets go of her hand.</p>
<p>She tries to swallow her disappointment. “I’m sorry,” she says, “for intruding on your dream. I promise I was not there intentionally. I was attempting to leave when…” She nods towards her hand.</p>
<p>“I understand, Inquisitor. You must have somehow bypassed my wards. They triggered when you tried to leave.”</p>
<p><em>Great</em>, she thinks, <em>more joys of the Anchor</em>.</p>
<p>He coughs. “If there is nothing else…” he pauses, his lips instinctively forming that ever-so-enticing <em>vh</em>. Her heart leaps to her throat—“Inquisitor”—and promptly drops to her stomach.</p>
<p>She thinks about stopping him, shouting, calling him all sorts of vulgar names in every language she knows. Or she could heave a sob, let him twist under the discomfort of knowing it's his <em>fault</em> that she’s so miserable. She wants him to hurt, to feel the same horrible ache in <em>his</em> gut that she feels in hers whenever he’s nearby.</p>
<p>But there’s another part of her—a small, traitorous part—that cannot bear to hurt him. She is a fool in love, and has no choice but to let him walk away. <em>Again</em>. She slumps in her chair.</p>
<p>“No. That’s all,” she says. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>His eyes flit from her to the door to her chambers. “Are you sure—”</p>
<p><em>Genuine worry</em>. Her heart skips a beat. “I’ll be fine,” she says, and she hopes she’s not lying. “You should get some rest.”</p>
<p>He gives her one more worried glance, then nods and turns away. She wonders if he was always this hard to read or if that’s just a recent development.</p>
<p>She stays in her throne for a long time. After a while, she thinks, she’ll get up and return to bed for a night of blissfully dreamless sleep. She knows neither she nor Solas will speak of this in the morning—or at all—but she will remember it. He promised her answers, and she supposes one day she’ll get them, but for now she must find a way to make do with the crushing silence of an empty throne room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks 4 reading, please wear a mask if you go out in public, etc etc</p></blockquote></div></div>
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